Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: andsol@is.rice.edu (Andrew J. Solberg) Subject: [KQ]: Kron [ScrRam] Order Comes To Fight, Ha Ha! Order is Obeyed! Message-ID: <1992Jul25.220508.22430@rice.edu> Date: Sat, 25 Jul 1992 22:05:08 GMT It looks like this fight is just about over. All the patrons of the Scrappy Ram are either gone or down for the count. The same can be said for the proprietor, Verdigren, and his chief cronies. Sambul is passed out on the floor after his duel with the beer elemental. The Bannery Brothers are worshipping the floor. Iannon has a big lump on his head, and Verdigren has passed out from a rather painful blow to the sternum. Queriche took the back way out the kitchen, and now Moriarty has been neatly roped by Maleiu's strange device. The heroes are not without casualty as well. Thk looks a little limp leaning up against the wall after an unfortunate run-in with loose kegs. Kron twisted his ankle while dealing with one of Moriarty's summonings, and it smarts. Fenris and HighFlyer seem to have disappeared. Even Colin and Maleiu, essentially unwounded in the fray, look pretty worn out. Kron knows that, at least for tonight, the party's activities will have to be curtailed soon. BOOM! A dull explosion rocks the Inn. It appears to come from outside. Kron limps to the doorway and sees nothing. Hrmm....now what could that have been? Kron turns his attention to his prisoners. Verdigren has come around to some degree, and is pressing a lump of ice to his sore chest. Kron limps over to him. "Verdigren, we tried our best to do this peacefully. Honestly we did. But you wouldn't let us. C'mon, man, help us! I still need your assistance." Verdigren stirs uneasily. "Well, you've sure got a strange way of showing it." He winces in pain -- probably a cracked rib or two in there, guesses Kron. "Look -- I know that you have less desire now to help me than ever. But we need information about one of your patrons. He's the one who put me in that dungeon, Verdigren. I'm being framed, and your man is responsible. Help me, and we'll make it worth your while. C'mon -- just tell me about the cloaked mute guy who sometimes comes in here." Verdigren screws up his face into a sneer. "Fuck off, Kron. I'll never tell you. You can do whatever you want -- I hope you swing at the end of a rope." Moriarty has had enough, and steps forward. "Verdigren, shaddap. OK, Kron, I'll tell you what I know." "MORIARTY!!" Verdigren looks like he's going to go psycho again, but he hurts too much to get up and wring the neck of the gutter mage. Moriarty forges ahead. "I don't know his name, or who he is, or whatever. All I know is that a guy by your description comes in here maybe one a week or so. He uses one of the back rooms, and locks it up afterward. I don't know what he uses it for." Kron points at the side door that Sambul had been stolidly guarding. "Back rooms there?" Moriarty nods. Verdigren growls at him. "Er....." says Moriarty, "any chance I can go now?" Kron nods. The conjurer untangles himself and slinks out the door. "See ya, Verdigren," he tosses over his shoulder. "We're even now." The door shuts. Kron opens the side door. There is a short hallway with several doors leading off. Only the furthest is locked. Kron opens it and finds a room piled high with boxes. He pokes around for several minutes in the mess. "Aha!" he announces. "Check this out," he says to the others. He holds up a thin tube that looks like nothing so much as a Pixie Stick. Kron snaps one end open and upends the tube; a thin stream of bluish powder cascades down into his hand. He tastes the powder, then spits it out. "Joystix," he confirms. Kron points down to where he found the object. There are several boxes full of the little straws. "This is a pretty good-sized stash. There's enough Joystix here to keep a good part of the Low City in dreamyland for the rest of the week. Whoever owns this box isn't just a user. He's a dealer. And he must have a bulk sale connection." "And there's only one place that could lead....." Kron turns to the others. "Look, it's late. We should retire for the night and pick up tomorrow morning. I think we've got a lead here, but I need to think about how it could help us. Why don't we head back to the Dragon's Inn for the night? We can collect information with our other friends there; perhaps we can piece together who we're dealing with -- and why....." ADMIN: Anybody got anything else to do while we are here? -- Andrew Solberg |"If I were your wife I'd poison your tea!" Undying University Mooch| Anon. Outraged British Woman andsol@owlnet.rice.edu |"And if I were your husband I'd drink it!" Phone:713-529-8627 | Winston Churchill